The Voices Unheard
by Kailey Hamilton
Summary: Because their stories matter. They too have unforgettable moments and life-changing realizations. They deserve to be heard. Independent drabbles about various characters and pairings. Canon-compliant (or could-be canon) unless specified otherwise. Various warnings, fully specified on each drabble. Latest drabble: McGonagall-centric.
1. Unrequited JustinxAstoria

_Disclaimer: Recognize it? Not mine._

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**Should've Known Better**

You were told that you're too young to attend the Yule Ball, but it doesn't trouble you. You know that, sooner rather than later, someone your Mummy will approve of will ask you to escort him. You're Astoria Greengrass, after all, and guys would rather take you than Millicent Bullstrode or Henriette Yaxley or practically any other girl, so it's simply a matter of time.

What you don't expect is for the first suitor to be Justin Finch-Fletchley. Maybe you should have -you know he fancies you- but you never thought he'd gather the courage to ask you out, after months of watching you when he thought you weren't looking.

The words are out of his lips. No more than a second later, the words are out of yours.

"I'm very sorry, Finch-Fletchley," you say. "I'm going to have to decline."

"That's alright." He looked away with a broken gaze. "I should've known better."

You want to feel bad for him, but you can't. Instead, you feel that he's right and that he should've known better. After all, he's a doe-eyed, curly-haired, ever-smiling Hufflepuff, and you would've found _him _cute if _you_ didn't know better.

However, when you think about it, you realize that he can't possibly know better, because he doesn't know that you've asked Daphne about him.

(You don't tell Daphne that you've caught him staring at you in the Great Hall and in the Library. You don't tell Daphne that he blushes a deep shade of pink whenever your eyes meet his. You don't tell Daphne that you suspect he's the one who sent you a rose on your birthday. Daphne doesn't need to know, and you know better than to tell her.)

He doesn't know that you've asked Daphne about him, so there's no way he knows what Daphne's answer was.

Then again, he might as well know, for his now-pained eyes see the result.

That's when you understand that you can reject his proposal as you did, as politely as your Mummy taught you, as tastefully as only Daphne knows how. But you understand that it makes no difference.

You might as well be truthful and call him a Mudblood instead.


	2. McGonagall family

_Disclaimer:__ Recognize it? Not mine._

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**The Sleeping Girl**

"Everything alright?"

The image carved into Isobel's mind was that of her nine-year-old daughter trying to put out the fire her brothers had started. Malcom and Robbie had the worst outbursts of uncontrolled magic she'd ever witnessed. She was glad that this one had only cost them the living room curtains.

"Maybe it's time we got rid of the cat," she lied. Her husband rose his eyes from his book and looked at her sternly.

"I don't care what Jethro did to those curtains. You know how much Minnie loves him."

Isobel did know, so she nodded, evidently glad that the conversation were over. All she really needed was to sit next to the fire in Robert's quiet company.

Normally, they sat on their living room after the children had gone to bed. However, Minerva had fallen asleep on the sofa. Jethro sat by her feet, hissing loudly at Isobel every time she attempted to wake her up.

Isobel looked at the girl, still going over the events of the afternoon.

"Minerva had such a long day," she told her husband in an attempt to be sincere.

"It looks like it." Robert stood up and stretched. "I think I'm going to take her to her room."

Jethro didn't react when the man took his daughter in his arms.

_It's as if he knows_, she thought, wanting to blame him for her aggravation. It had been hard for her to accept that Minerva liked her father better than she liked her, but it was frustrating that even Jethro seemed to show a preference.

Either way, she couldn't lie to herself. What truly bothered her was her guilty conscience.

Minerva was so intelligent, so prematurely observant, that Isobel sometimes forgot that she was just a child. The girl was clever enough to understand that she was bound to secrecy. She was caring enough to protect the boys, and even Robert himself, from the consequences of that fact.

Isobel was initially glad that Minerva could help. It meant that she had someone to carry that weight with.

But when she found Minerva trying to put out that fire, she realized that she'd been careless. Right then, she'd seen her as a child. A child that was risking her life to protect her father from an uncomfortable truth.

It was absurd, and Isobel realized that it was plain _wrong._

And then, as she watched Robert's thin figure disappear into the girl's room, Isobel understood why Minerva liked her father better.

Robert allowed Minerva to be a child. He called her Minnie and allowed her to display that honesty children were so fond of. He didn't expect her to show restraint. He took his time to understand her and watch over her. He didn't give her responsibilities that were too big for her tiny shoulders.

Robert was the one who would carry the sleeping girl to her bed instead of waking her up.


	3. M-rated BlaisexRoger

_Disclaimer:__ Recognize it? Not mine._

**_Warnings: _**_M-rated slash - sexual situations heavily implied._

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**Jealous**

"Where's your trophy girl, Davies?"

It was like Blaise Zabini to bring her up, to try to make Roger feel guilty.

"Who cares." He shrugged. "No one would suspect that I'm cheating on _her_, now would they?"

Before Blaise could respond, Roger kissed him.

All Roger had to worry about was the knowledge that Blaise Zabini would only settle for the very best. Blaise thought that Roger was the very best indeed, but after so many clandestine encounters, he couldn't help but hesitate.

He didn't know whether to curse or to thank the Slytherin prefect who had (forcibly) given him the password of the Prefects' bathroom. That was where he'd stumbled upon Roger Davies, who was very handsome and very naked. Water dripped from his flawless body and his face looked all the more attractive with that amused smirk...

A look at Blaise's stunned face was all the older guy had needed to _understand._

The next encounter wasn't really an accident. Nor were the countless that followed.

Nonetheless, It bothered Blaise how Roger could be so easy-going. He was jealous, even, of the way Roger had exacted his cover.

Roger didn't have anyone ask him why he didn't date.

He didn't have to be jealous of Blaise dating at all, because he couldn't bring himself to date a girl.

He didn't have to be jealous because that arrangement completely benefited him.

Roger didn't have to be jealous because Blaise was fooling himself with the idea that he would be jealous at all.

Sometimes, Blaise thought Roger only kept him around because he was the only willing guy around. But when bodies were pressed against each other, hands roaming freely, and every part of his anatomy was oh so awake, it just seemed unlikely.

And that's why he kept going back.

That same night, like all the other nights, there were no kisses, no hugs, no lingering around each other when all was said and done. And Blaise knew, deep down, that he should quit Roger. But if he did, Roger would _know_. That couldn't happen.

Instead, when he was done getting dressed, he looked at the other boy with an expressionless face. He wanted to stay and stare, but he thought it wiser to leave.

"Goodnight, Davies," he said.

"See you later, Zabini." Roger was done fixing his hair in a mirror. "I'll let you know."

Roger was the one who made the decisions, because he was the one who had a girlfriend to keep him busy. And Blaise knew that if he refused, he would go _days _without Roger Davies.

"I've never known how you do it, Davies," he said in a disdainful tone, trying not to sound frustrated. "The prettiest girl around, dating the gayest man in school."

Blaise was trying to taunt him, but Roger only laughed.

"You're just as gay as I am, Zabini." Roger patted the younger boy's back and left the room, not before adding: "No need to be jealous."


	4. LilyxSnape FRIENDSHIP

_Disclaimer:__ Recognize it? Not mine._

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**Kind**

"Take this. I'm not hungry."

Severus searched for pity in Lily's eyes. He couldn't find it, so he wordlessly took the sandwich she was offering him and proceeded to eat it hastily. Better than the box of raisins he had in his pocket, he reckoned.

"You know," he said with his mouth full, "in Hogwarts they have great food. And they have plenty, too. Mum told me they make banquets sometimes."

Lily was clever enough to realize that her friend was underfed. They hadn't been friends for long, but she already knew that Severus would get mad if she showed her sadness.

"Who makes the food at Hogwarts?" She asked instead.

"House-elves." He discarded the sandwich's now-empty wrapping. Lily frowned, proceeding to take it from the soft grass and place it in her picnic basket.

Severus looked mortified, so her expression softened.

"House-elves?" She asked. "What are they?"

"They're tiny creatures with very pointy ears. They're like slaves."

"That is awful!"

"They like it though. There's this story about a house-elf that was looking for a Master..."

Severus kept talking, entranced by the look of genuine curiosity on Lily's eyes. Letting Lily into his world was one of the biggest privileges he'd ever had.

He only made a pause when he heard the familiar noise of a growling stomach. But this time, he knew it wasn't his. And he understood that, even if pity didn't show, it didn't mean it wasn't there.

"You lied to me!" He said angrily. "You _are _hungry!"

"I was only trying to be nice," she whispered, her eyes full of tears.

Severus quickly regretted talking to her like that. Lily was the only person to ever treat him like he mattered. Lily was the only reason he didn't feel lonely, even if that meant they were both alone together. They were singular, special, magical, and they would never belong with the rest.

Lily was his very best friend - his _only_ friend.

And so, in his quest for forgiveness, Severus did the only thing he could think of: He took the little box of raisins from his pocket and offered it to her.

"Here. Have these. It's not much, but- but it's all I have."

Severus spoke very quickly, avoiding Lily's gaze. It was the first time he'd attempted to give her anything, and he would be heartbroken if she refused.

"I want to share them with you," she said after careful consideration. He nodded, willing to do anything to make her happy. It seemed to work, because she smiled and added: "Thank you, Sev."

Lily chose not to tell Severus that she loathed raisins. He didn't need to know.

It wasn't much, as he'd said. But to Lily, that gesture of kindness meant the whole world.


	5. Sort of LunaxCedric

_Disclaimer:__ Recognize it? Not mine._

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**Accept the Extraordinary**

"What's in the box?"

"It's a Wrackspurt siphon."

It amused Cedric that he knew _exactly_ what a Wrackspurt was. The Lovegoods were family friends, and they'd been practically neighbors for many years. Whenever he saw little Luna, he was always glad to stop to talk to her.

That day, he had been more than glad to coincide with her on his way to the Owlery.

"Will it protect him against Wrackspurts?" He asked.

"It does; I've tried it. This is the perfect birthday gift."

"He has a July birthday," he recalled.

Luna stared at him as if he'd said something outrageous.

"It's _my_ birthday, silly. I'm fourteen today."

Cedric had known her for the majority of his life, yet she still managed to surprise him.

"It normally works the other way around, Luna."

"Oh, I don't think so. It's because of Dad that I was born, so I must thank him. And Mum, too. Dad takes flowers to her grave in my name." _That is oddly sweet_, Cedric thought.

He didn't respond, so Luna kept talking. "Dad got me a gift though. Look!" She tucked her hair behind her ears, from which dangled the weirdest earrings he'd ever seen. "They're dirigible plums, and they're known for enhancing the wearer's ability to accept the extraordinary."

"You already know how to accept the extraordinary," he observed.

"That is flattering. I certainly wish I could."

Cedric knew many people who would've mocked that statement - the same people he often scolded for calling her Loony and hiding her things. He didn't do it out of pity. He simply thought she deserved the best.

And that's how the idea came to his mind.

"Use my owl, Luna," he said. "Eamon can make the long trip with your package. I only need to send a letter."

To Cedric's surprise, she laughed loudly. She wasn't prone to those outbursts, much less when there was no humor involved.

"You know," she said. "Girls giggle when you're around. They say it's because you're handsome, and I think it's silly. But I'm doing it." She shrugged. "I guess it's because you're kind."

Underneath the shyness it provoked, her shameless honesty was enough to make his heart burst with gratitude, affection and joy.

The only response he could think of was _thanks, _but it didn't seem like enough.

Fortunately, they reached their destination, so they spent a few minutes in companionable silence while they sent their respective letters. He watched Eamon fly away, happy that he could make her happy.

And then it hit him.

"Luna," he said, "I almost forgot to wish you a happy birthday."

Luna looked at Cedric straight in the eyes and beyond. It made him shiver, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling.

It was the realization that she was extraordinary, and that he'd learned to fully accept her.

"Thank you, Cedric," she said with a faint blush and a gentle smile. "You really are kind."


	6. MinervaxDougal

_Disclaimer: Recognize it? Not mine._

_Warning: Relies on Pottermore info._

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**Give up Everything**

It was a beautiful morning. She wished it wasn't.

It would be easier for her, she thought, if the skies were covered by a blanket of clouds. She wished rain would fall and mix with the tears that were sure to appear.

"How is my beautiful fiancée?"

She found him in his father's fields not far from where he'd proposed. Just how good looking he was! And how humble, strong, valiant! She loved this simple, joyous muggle boy like she'd never loved anything or anyone.

Seeing the same love in his blue eyes made her resolve weaken. Her own feelings for him were rising up and beg for her to change her mind. Her chest physically hurt, as if she was out of air, as if her very soul ached.

_Don't be a coward, Minerva. Say it._

"Dougal, I'm going to be as straightforward as I can. I owe this to you." She breathed deep, looking at him in the eyes. "I can't marry you."

The words floated in the air like stray specs of dust, and left behind them the worst kind of silence she'd ever experienced. The light disappeared from his eyes. Minerva hated herself right then - she could almost _hear_ his heart breaking.

She clenched her teeth and swallowed, seeking to remain without an expression.

"Why?"

Minerva had thought of many lies, but they seemed worthless. She didn't want to lock up her wand, like her mother had done. She didn't want Dougal to live in secrecy, like her father had done. That's all there was.

"I'm leaving for London in three days," was all she said.

"Is that it? I could... I could go with you."

"You could _not_. Your father's farm is your life."

"But I want to be with you!"

Minerva wanted to scream the truth, raise her voice and leave him too shocked to chase after her. But she couldn't.

"That's not it," she whispered. "I'm going, and I'm going without you. Please don't try to reach me."

After a brief silence, realization seemed to dawn on him. He fell on his knees, and while Minerva knew this was out of shock, it almost felt as if he was begging.

She turned his back to him. She couldn't face him like this. She had hoped to remain calm, but the pain was more than she could handle.

"Goodbye, Dougal" she said, and started walking away from him.

"Did you ever love me, Minerva?"

The question surprised her. She turned around, letting him see her face and hear her voice for the last time. She didn't care anymore if her tears showed or if her voice broke, and so they did.

"I do love you, with all my heart. I'm sorry, Dougal. I'm so sorry."

Walking away, the words that rung in her ears were _'I could go with you.' _They hurt, because he was willing to give up everything for her.

And she'd given him up.


	7. Percy-centric angst

_Disclaimer:__ Recognize it? Not mine._

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**Kiss**

Percy sat in an armchair in front of the fire. He read The Daily Prophet -or pretended to- while his three women, as he called them, were animatedly talking in the kitchen. Molly and Audrey were so alike, while Lucy...

"The Ravenclaw Common Room is so blue and starry, Mum. Albus says Slytherin's is gray and gloomy, so you can't know what it's like to have a cozy Common Room, now can you?"

"Hush, Molly. Stop messing with Slytherin. You've had a Slytherin mother for sixteen years. We're not that bad, now are we?"

"Not at all, Mum," Lucy answered instead. "Our Common Room is so much better though. You can see both the sunrise and the sunset. It makes me wish Hagan wasn't a Gryffindor, and that I could just kiss him in there..."

"Lucy! That is inappropriate."

But Percy smiled. Molly knew he was eavesdropping. Lucy knew he was eavesdropping. Audrey knew he was eavesdropping. That's why Audrey pretended to censor that comment, of course, but it was unnecessary. Of course he did not approve, but it wasn't like he didn't sneak around to meet Penelope Clearwater at the oddest places and hours...

They didn't know that they'd triggered some memories that were enough to erase his smile.

_You'd love our Common Room, Perce. It's the most romantic place in Hogwarts, with its stars and its bookcases!_

Molly and Audrey were alike, while Lucy reminded him unequivocally of Penelope.

Audrey knew little about Penelope. She knew Percy had a Muggleborn ex-girlfriend that had died in the war, and that was it. She knew, and surprisingly understood, that Percy thought about her every now and then.

It wasn't like he didn't love Audrey - she was a proud Slytherin, but an even prouder Voldemort opposer. She was very beautiful with her auburn curls and her cheerful attitude. Percy had found himself smitten with her in a matter of a few dates, and nineteen years later, he still felt the same way.

Yet, he'd never told her the truth.

He never told Audrey that he still saw Penelope, whenever he went to visit her in St. Mungo's. There was no way back for her, but he couldn't bring himself to abandon her.

He never told Audrey that the unjust imprisonment in Azkaban had managed to break Penelope and that he blamed himself for it. He didn't act. He didn't save her. He could have been braver, but when he gathered the courage, it was too late.

He never told Audrey that when the war was over and all he wanted was his girlfriend, he'd found that the Dementors gave Penelope her very last kiss.

It was his dark little secret.


	8. Surprise slash pairing

_Disclaimer:__ Recognize it? Not mine._

_**Warning:** If you're here, you know this is slash. So yeah. K-rated slash, shouldn't be a warning, but apparently it is._

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**Never to Return**

You've got him where you want him - alone, in his room, while everyone else is down in the Common Room celebrating his most recent victory.

You know that he's going away, never to return. You know it's now or never, and now seems just about right.

You've watched him like the hopeless pupil watches the wisest teacher.

You've watched him like a panther to its prey, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Now, he writes a letter and you want to keep on watching, but there's no time for that.

"This party is for you, man." You speak nonchalantly. "Why are you here?"

His eyes are away from the parchment, now piercing yours inquisitively.

"I think the right question is, why are_ you _here?" He's not impolite, and he's not wrong either.

Maybe not even surprised.

You don't have an answer to his question. Not one that can be spoken, at least.

You've been told that you're much too brave, much too foolish for a fifteen-year-old. You'll be damned if you don't use that to your advantage when the situation begs for it.

And the situation is begging for it. The situation, in fact, _demands_ you walk up to him, and lean in just so your face is within inches from those features you know too well.

_That _is the answer to his question.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asks. He's not protesting, he's _asking_.

You linger. He doesn't push you away.

"I've been watching you, Wood," you say.

You've been watching him, and that's how you know how that he's been watching you back.

You know he's been watching you back, though he's happy denying it to himself.

So you kiss him.

And he kisses you back.

Things are perfect, if just for a single instant, and you know you've never been happier.

Though he's going away, never to return.

You don't know how long it's been. You only know that, sometime later, his prudish roommate barges in. You don't know if you've just gotten caught, or if you managed to break apart at just the right moment.

But the spell is broken, so after a shared glance, you get up and walk away from him. You only turn back around when you reach the door.

"Thanks for the advice," you improvise. "I'll definitely make the team next year."

You almost expect a _"you're welcome, McLaggen"_ to leave his lips, but you know him better than that. And you're way too happy to care.

And you know, as you turn the doorknob, that your happiness is fleeting. He's going away, never to return.

He's going away, never to look back.


	9. Adrian Pucey-centric

_Disclaimer:__ Recognize it? Not mine._

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**Of Slytherin Brothers and Wrong Choices**

"You're off the team."

The news don't faze Adrian. His housemates have never liked him, and they've made it clear. The Sorting Hat took longer than five minutes to proclaim him a Slytherin, so they don't trust him. It's as simple as that.

_I can't believe I asked the Hat to send me here_, he thinks, not for the first time.

"Did you hear, Pucey? You're off the team!" Marcus Flint repeated. Well, it's not like he's surprised or anything, especially after_ the incident._

"Fair enough, Marcus," he says distractedly. But the older boy doesn't leave.

"We don't want you there when facing Gryffindor."

This time, Adrian does bother to look over the book he's reading.

"Your loss, Marcus. I really don't care." But Adrian's stoicism seams to displease Marcus.

"For how long have you been fancying the Half-Blood, Pucey?" He taunts him.

Adrian stares at the older boy minutely. _Marcus Flint can actually get things right, _he realizes with genuine surprise.

"You have a weird definition of 'fancying.'" His face doesn't betray his thoughts.

"You helped her up."

"And you knocked her down. Good thing we cleared up the obvious. Now what is your point?"

"You choose her over us. You chose her over your Slytherin brothers."

_You're not my brothers_. He wants to be brave enough to say it. Maybe if he'd been a Gryffindor, like the Hat intended, he would've learned to speak up.

But he was a Slytherin, so silent resistance would have to do.

"And that's why I'm off the team," he says instead. "I told you, Marcus, that's fair enough. Thanks for letting me know what I already knew. Now please, some of us actually have the brainpower required to complete our workload, and I know I'm very eager to use it." _That was too sophisticated for him, _he thinks. The lack of response proves him right. "In other words, just go away."

Adrian doesn't bother to see the effect of his words. He directs his gaze back to his book and continues reading. Or that's what he intends, because he's remembering blond waves and kind blue eyes, those that seemed so confused when he offered his hand.

He remembers how vulnerable she looked when Marcus pretended to bump into her, just for the fun of seeing her fall. He recalls the sensation of his strength supporting her weight in that simple contact, and he vividly pictures the hint of a smile that wordlessly said 'thanks.'

_You chose her over your Slytherin brothers._

He remembers that he didn't care that his teammates had been staring when _the incident_ happened, and he thinks that maybe he should have been a Gryffindor. Then he wouldn't have to pretend it was a difficult choice.

_That's what it should've been like,_ he thinks. _Slytherin was the wrong choice._

But at least, now he knows that he would choose Alicia Spinnet over pretty much anyone.


	10. Minerva McGonagall's sorting

_Disclaimer:__ Recognize it? Not mine._

**_Warning: _**_Pottermore = Canon._

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**Under the Surface**

_That raggedy old Hat had the power to decide my fate_, Minerva thought in awe as she waited for her turn to be sorted. Her bright eyes were quietly fixed on the object of her rapture.

"You seem to know where you'll be Sorted," a girl whispered in her ear.

Minerva believed she was going to be a Ravenclaw like her mother.

At the same time, she wanted to believe that she was more than that.

"I'm going to be a Slytherin," the girl kept talking.

"Good for you," Minerva muttered, but the girl ignored her sarcasm.

"I'm Druella Rosier. What's your name?"

"Minerva McGonagall."

"Oh." She seemed to lose interest immediately, and that's when Minerva let herself wonder. _Is she one of those Pureblood supremacists Mum warned me about?_

But one thing bothered her more. _What made her think I'm one of _them_?_

She looked around. Most of the kids that waited in line with her were bubbling with nervousness and excitement, unfazed by the long trip and the eventful day. There weren't many that seemed as calm as the Rosier girl... other than herself.

_Do I look so mean?_ Minerva didn't think she did. She felt more identified with the merry bunch than with the long-faced few. Yet, everything happened under the surface and her face was impassive.

"McGonagall, Minerva!"

_It's time_, she thought as she walked up to the three-legged stool and sat down. Professor Dumbledore gave her a quick smile before placing the Hat on top of her head.

"This is quite interesting." The Hat's voice in her head startled her. "Ravenclaw, yes... you don't long for greatness, so definitely not Slytherin. However, you seek to be remarkable, so that rules out Hufflepuff. Gryffindor... would be a most adequate choice. What will it be?"

_Mum was a Ravenclaw, if that helps._

"Yes, I see that. I see more than that."

The last line unsettled her. She understood that the Hat could see into her mind. It saw her family, and their life in secrecy. The Hat saw everything she ever thought but never said, everything that stayed on the inside.

Minerva waited in apprehensive silence. She'd always been scared that the day would come and someone would read her like an open book.

"...Yet you're still sitting here, after five minutes of this."

She felt relief. _Good Merlin. Are you done prying?_

The Hat laughed in her ear. "It's still a close call. Your intelligence is apparent, and you're not modest about it. But under the surface, there's an outstanding, unassuming sort of courage. You've shown it, but you've taken little credit for it. Yes, I'm certain that Ravenclaw has little to teach you, but you'll go far with GRYFFINDOR!"

_It's over_, she realized as the Hat was lifted off her head and the Gryffindor table welcomed her with applause. She stood up, meeting Druella Rosier's disdainful stare with nothing but satisfaction.

_I guess I _am_ more than that._


	11. PadmaxMorag FRIENDSHIP

_Disclaimer: Recognize it? Not mine._

* * *

**What We Do**

"I'm worried about you, Morag."

"Why is that?"

"Because... because of the Yule Ball," Padma admitted. "You just broke up with that idiot... do you think it's okay for you to... to get involved with someone so soon?"

Padma thought Morag was so pretty, with her graceful height and clever eyes. She was one of her best friends - she was sure to think that Morag was everything men were searching for.

"Don't lie to me." Padma had done wrong to underestimate her friend. Morag wore a faint blush. "You're worried because I snogged Nott at the Ball."

She couldn't hide it - she thought that Theodore Nott was the worst possible person for Morag. Yet, Morag was claiming that she _actually had fun_ when Nott asked her to dance out of nowhere.

Then again, Padma was sure that Nott wasn't above casting an Imperius curse on Morag. It was like him to manipulate such a charming girl into thinking he was just fantastic. It almost scared her that she couldn't tell, but she knew she was just being paranoid.

"It's_ Theodore Nott_," she finally admitted. "You've seen what he's capable of. I mean, even in the best case scenario, he's using you."

"Better case scenario, I'm using him as well." Morag declared triumphantly. "He's not a good person, Padma. I'm not easily fooled. But he was entertaining enough." She raised an eyebrow. "Certainly more entertaining than Ronald Weasley."

It was Padma's turn to blush when she was reminded of her very own disastrous date.

"Oh, hush."

"I'm sorry, I was just joking around."

"No, it's okay." She didn't want to let Morag know that she was slightly upset at the change of topic, but Morag always read her too well for her comfort. "Well, Weasley isn't that bad either..."

"I guess he isn't... he's just one big childish goofball. But you could get better."

"And you could get better than Nott."

"Then I guess, my dear friend, it's time for us to let each other make mistakes." Morag's eyes twinkled in excitement, in an expression Padma knew too well.

"Alright, alright. But if you get cursed in the attempt..."

"Then it would be a fine experience." Morag giggled. "We're Ravenclaws, are we not? This is what Ravenclaws do."

"Ravenclaws act intelligently."

"Ravenclaws crave experiences, are open-minded and love learning new things. Padma," Morag's tone softened, "you don't need to worry about me."

Padma returned the smile with genuine affection.

"This is what friends do, Morag."


	12. Post-epilogue HarryxHermione

_Disclaimer:__ Recognize it? Not mine._

* * *

**Lifelong**

More than once, he had occurred to Harry that he chose a lifelong mate when he was too young to understand the implications of 'lifelong.' Every problem he'd overlooked had reappeared in the time of tragedy.

Hermione understood his despair at Ginny's very recent miscarriage, her utter misery, his inability to help and the fighting that ensued. Hermione herself realized, once Hugo had started Hogwarts, that she couldn't get along with her husband without her kids as a buffer.

Hermione hadn't been right for him at seventeen. But at forty, she was the one soul who truly understood him. She was the one whose wisdom matched the dark corners of his own mind.

Her lips tasted like tears and felt like lipstick and that was fine by him.

Part of him felt as if he'd cheated.

A bigger part of him felt that he'd been cheating himself all his life.


	13. Unrequited SiriusxHestia

**Smoke**

It was always the same. Whenever she dropped in to visit, she would light a cigarette and offer him another.

At sixteen, he and James used to sneak out to meet Muggle girls. All the cool kids smoked, so naturally they started doing it too.

If he closed his eyes, he could remember laughter, kisses, carelessness and dangerous joy.

Hestia Jones surely was a pretty lady, with her youthful stare and her long dark hair. She was an Auror - lethal, smart, skillful.

To him, she was all things attractive. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that there was banter; he could pretend that she was interested.

It was always the same. Smoke would leave his lungs, and later, she would leave him.

Sirius knew that Hestia was full of possibilities. But he had none left.


	14. Conversation between Lupin and Snape

_Disclaimer:__ Recognize it? Not mine._

* * *

**Dear To Her**

There was a knock on Severus Snape's door.

"Who is it?" He asked without bothering to look away from the potion he was brewing.

"It's Professor Lupin. May I come in?"

The polite tone was hard for him to deny, since not many people were genuinely polite to him. Those who treated him with respect tended to regard him with fear.

Not Remus Lupin. That's why Lily had befriended him, wasn't it? That's why Lily had befriended Remus Lupin when Severus had failed her. Just because Lupin was kind and he wasn't.

"Suit yourself," he answered curtly.

The man walked in and took a seat uninvited. Severus did rise his eyes from the cauldron this time - Lupin looked so old, so shattered, that the inner child inside of him screamed with joyful revenge.

"To what do I owe your visit?" His face didn't betray his feelings.

"I was wondering if you could lend me the instructions to make the Wolfsbane Potion."

Severus huffed. "The Wolfsbane Potion is more complex than anything I've ever attempted. Needless to say, you'll get killed before getting past the first stage of brewing."

"You underestimate me, Professor Snape." Lupin's eyes had a gleam of recklessness, one he recognized from his schoolboy years.

"I can assure I'm not, Lupin. I assure you, as painful as your transformations might be, your skills are too limited to attempt this."

"But you were never one to worry, were you?"

He eyed the other man once again. Was he genuinely expecting him to _want_ to endanger him?

Well, that was one dilemma he couldn't solve himself. He disliked Lupin. He disliked how amiable he was. He disliked that everyone admired Lupin's character, when he'd been perfectly able to stand by and watch him be humiliated by his friends time and time again.

He hated that he'd been Lily's friend. He hated him, because Lily had just replaced him so easily.

He hated that Lupin had been dear to Lily, when he had long stopped to matter.

"I don't want your blood on my hands." That was true, at least.

"I must insist. I know, Severus, that you understand that I pose a danger to the students-"

"Warned the Headmaster against you accordingly."

"I'm quite sure you did." Lupin smirked - was he taking this with _humor_? "You can give me access to the instructions to brew the Wolfsbane Potion, so they'll be safe. I'm not asking this to do this for you - do it for them."

Severus didn't answer right away, opting to focus on his potion while he thought about his answer.

When Lupin put it that way, he made it seem as if it was his responsibility to help him, to protect the students. Then again, he was sure it wasn't. He wanted to sneer and tell him to_ just fucking leave _if he was so worried about the students.

But a pair of green eyes appeared in his mind and in the end, only one thing mattered.

_What would Lily do?_

He sighed, giving up to the thought. "I will make the Wolfsbane Potion for you, Lupin," he muttered, then quickly added, "There's no need to be thankful."

When Lupin smiled and stood up, it was clear to Severus that Lupin had intended to get such an offer from him. He briefly panicked, wondering if he knew about his crush on Lily. He surely had known - did he remember?

The gleam in Lupin's eyes had surely intensified, and his smile suddenly seemed eerily mysterious.

"Thank you anyway, Severus," Lupin said. "You're so kind."


	15. Alice-centric angst Alice&Frank

_Disclaimer:__ Recognize it? Not mine._

* * *

**Before the Pain**

Red clouds twisted and turned against each other as she watched intently. The little glass sphere she held in her hand could faintly return the reflection of her battered, hollow face. Such a face wasn't one she would've called hers a few years earlier - even on that dull day, she wouldn't, _couldn't_ recognize it as her own.

Every day, she would seek for answers in that little crystal ball - its name escaped her, but the lady in white said it had something to do with remembering. And she tried to do such, but she had the nagging feeling that she was doing it wrong. Still, she turned the object in her hand and admired its crimson interior, as the man who sat in front of her frowned.

_My husband doesn't approve_, she told herself. She knew the man was her husband because the lady in white always told her that. But even as she thought the words, she couldn't bring herself to feel the adequate emotions.

Everything was long gone from her memory. The only thing she could remember before the four walls that enclosed her -_them_- was the most excruciating pain. She distinctly remembered how her whole body had felt like it was on fire, and how her mind was deprived of clarity. Those recollections always woke her from her sleep and haunted her every waking second, to the point that keeping her mind off of them wasn't an option.

Memories were weird to her - she would've been happy to forget that she'd forgotten.

But the fact that such tribulations were on her mind were proof that something had happened_ sometime_. There was that stern old lady that came to visit weekly. And that sweet, sweet boy that always brought him the bubblegum she liked. She knew there was something important or even _vital_ that she'd forgotten, and she would've given everything she had -which wasn't much- to see what events had occurred before the pain, and what had she done to deserve it.

Remembering got harder every time she tried. It was futile, and taxing, and she'd attempted it for so long that frustration took over. She couldn't stop the tears that ran down her face. She didn't even try.

"Alice," the man addressed her tenderly upon seeing her in such distress. She recalled that her name was Alice and his was Frank - that's what the lady in white always called them. "Alice, I love you."

Lucidity came in stray drops of rain in a desert of raw pain. Between those dunes, she could remember that he was dear to her. He'd been with her in suffering and in fear, and he'd be there until death came to separate them. He'd been with her since the very first day of her new life - he was the only one who knew. He was the only thing she had left, the only anchor in the angry seas.

"Love you too, Frank," she said, though she wasn't sure whether this was true or not. But as the red clouds inside the sphere dissipated ever so slightly, she realized that if she didn't love him, then she didn't love anyone in the world.

* * *

_Notes: For the Acrostics Competition (word: Remembrall; also had to be a theme) and the Fanfiction Tournaments Competitions - Round 2 of the May Tournament (Marauder Era; Marauder Era characters.)_


	16. Molly&Lucy bonding

**Together**

Crying face-down in her bed, Lucy mused on how she'd managed to ruin her birthday. Not that Lucy hated birthdays – she would've liked to love her own birthday. But she couldn't, and now she'd ruined it for Molly as well.

"I won't be able to look at Uncle George in the face again," she sobbed. Deep down, she thought Roxanne was mean for saying what she said. But she'd suspected the truth every year – Uncle George's stare was too full of pain to even pretend he enjoyed the twin girls' birthday. Now she'd just gotten the evidence.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Lucy?" Molly barged in without knocking. Lucy sat upright, trying to make an innocent face, but her red eyes betrayed her. "Why are you crying?"

Lucy bit her lip, mortified. They rarely kept secrets from each other; privacy was a luxury they'd willingly given up almost entirely. Still, she knew she owed it to Molly to tell her, after she'd pulled such a tantrum and exited the living room in tears.

"You know what, Molly," she said, "maybe we should do like Aunt Luna does for her twins. Maybe we should celebrate separately."

Lucy could tell from Molly's expression that she'd offended her. Her sister's eyes narrowed and her whole body was tense.

"If that's what you want…"

"No, I don't want this. I just… I don't like celebrating this. I think – I think you should be able to enjoy yourself without me feeling mortified."

"Well, Lucy, now you're making a big deal out of this!" Molly exclaimed in exasperation. "Will you tell me what's going on?"

Lucy looked away from her sister's eyes – brown, like her own, the only thing absolutely identical about them.

"I can't celebrate when Uncle George is so sad," she confessed. "I see how he looks at us and I can't-"

"For Merlin's sake, Lucy! This isn't about Uncle George!" Molly probably realized how her outburst had upset Lucy, for he lowered her voice. "He sulks enough in his birthday. This is about us, lovely. He knows it."

"He might as well know, but I also know he's not happy to come to our birthday."

"Of course he is! We're his Godchildren!"

"Roxanne told me that he didn't want to come."

"Roxanne says lots of things, Lucy. Are you really going to believe her?"

Should she believe Roxanne? She was much like Molly, but she had no one to tone down her brashness. She surely had been caught lying and getting in trouble more than enough, or at least enough to make Lucy wary.

_Maybe she's jealous_, she thought. And the idea made her smirk. Many people had told her they were jealous that she had a twin sister. _Well, they have plenty of reasons to be jealous. If I didn't have Molly…_

She swallowed. That was the thought that assaulted her every birthday of hers.

_Maybe I'm imagining it. Maybe he is happy for us. Either way, Molly wants to be happy today and I won't take it away from her._

"You-you're right, Molly." She got up with a smile. "Let's go celebrate your birthday."

"What about yours?"

"I'm just going to celebrate that I have you."

It was one of those rare moments in which Molly was completely touched. Lucy could tell from the way she stopped in her tracks and looked at her straight in the eyes, seriousness apparent in her face.

Then, in another gesture unlike her, Molly hugged Lucy so tightly that she thought her ribs were going to break.

"Molly…"

"You're absolutely right, darling," she said, breaking the embrace. The smile on her face was genuine, though Lucy thought she could see tears welling up in her eyes. "And I love you so much, alright? Now let's just celebrate together every year that we're alive."

As Molly dragged her back downstairs, Lucy thought of her sister's odd behavior. She couldn't quite place where it all came from, but she didn't care. _As long as she's happy._


	17. Stayed Behind

_Disclaimer: Recognize it? Not mine._

* * *

**Stayed Behind**

I was sitting in the forest of willows, the one we used to frequent when we were kids. While it was near our rundown city, there was no sign of such wreckage and everything seemed untouched. I remembered the trees as richly green and majestic, their branches bent down as if lending me a hand, eager to serve the protective purposes we'd assigned them. The rays of sun would filter gently through the leaves, forming ethereal shapes in the ground around us, and droplets of rain would get to us as a reminder of the outside world.

That little spot beside the creek was the perfect one to hear the willows whispering to each other, their branches heavily swinging along with the wind as if lethargy flowed through their very cores. It was fitting, I thought, for such a place hadn't changed in the last three years. Time had always seemed to slow down here, and the fresh smell of dew, grass and dirt seemed to contribute to that sensation. Birds chirped occasionally, but most of the time, all living creatures seemed to get the hint and left us the place for just us.

My gaze fell upon the black creek that zigzagged in and out of view. It was riddled with rocks that we'd often used to cross to the other side, so the current seemed to have a hard time finding its way downhill. However, the stream flowed quickly, conspicuously; noisily announcing its presence and reminding us that time came and went. I used to pick leaves from the nearest branches and drop them in the water, just to see how quickly they disappeared from view.

So in the end, time ran its own course, but it still felt like our little capsule; our little shelter. One we should've known we were privileged to have. Back then we had been children -so innocent, so certain of each other- and when I closed my eyes, I could still feel the echoes of laughter, the confidences and declarations of friendship this place had witnessed.

Yet here I was, three years later, all alone. I'm sure I looked exactly the way I felt. My hair was thrown carelessly in a bun and I was wearing an old t-shirt of my mother's and the pair of jeans I'd worn nearly every day since I'd left Hogwarts. I knew I was pale and had dark circles under my eyes, for I had been on duty at nights and asleep at daytime, most of the time.

I was tired, and the forest was young. Everything I loved about this place had stayed behind, and life had gotten too complicated for me to want to go forward.

I wished I could go back instead.

I closed my eyes and thought of him – the friend he had been and the kindness and loyalty he showed to me alone; then a Dark Arts specialist, a _murderer_. And of course, I thought of the willow forest that had been ours. It was so charged with nostalgia, so beautifully untouched, that my eyes watered.

"I miss you, Sev," I whispered.

I strained my senses, hoping that I would hear an "I miss you too, Lily." I hoped that I was wrong and that he'd never been a murdered, that people could be redeemed, that forgiveness would ever come naturally. I hoped that for some miraculous reason he was there too, watching, waiting, _hoping_…

Looking at the creek, I realized that if there was any hint of affection for me that had remained within him, I would never know about it.

* * *

_Notes: For the Fanfiction School of Imagination and Creativity Competition (Visual Arts 1 – Photograph.)_

_A million thanks to **Anna (ladyoftheknightley)** for being the amazing beta-reader that she is!_


	18. Sleepless Nights

_Notes:__ For the 100 Words Exact Drabble Challenge, with the prompt 'courage.'_

* * *

**Sleepless Nights**

Every sleepless night, Minerva McGonagall allowed herself _one tear_ for the _one time _she'd been brave.

She was the Professor, the Headmistress, the war heroine.

She was a true Gryffindor.

She'd fought for a cause that could've been lost. She'd raised her wand against old friends. She'd taken a husband, then he was taken away from her.

But she had never _feared_. And without fear, there was no bravery.

Dougal McGregor's youthful face appeared in her mind, as it did every sleepless night since she'd had the courage to leave him behind.

Maybe she still showed courage every sleepless night.


End file.
